


Fake Names and Batman

by shea_btter



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, We love fluff, mari's so dumb, not a meet-cute but not not a meet-cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-09-15 16:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16937001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shea_btter/pseuds/shea_btter
Summary: Marinette normally doesn't enjoy the hours during or after rush-hour. She feels gross, she's tired, and because the Starbucks she works at is a little understaffed, she often finds herself working it alone. She supposes a handsome stranger might make up for it all.





	1. James Bond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arasei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arasei/gifts).



> So this is my first fic! Any and all constructive criticism would be great and appreciated haha yeet thanks for reading.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng lived a very normal life. She was the most normal, unremarkable person to have ever walked the streets of Paris, and she was very quick to say so. She definitely did _not_ go around at night wearing spandex, and she most definitely was _not_ also sometimes known as the super-heroine Ladybug.

Definitely not.

No, Marinette Dupain-Cheng lived with her parents above a bakery, studied fashion design at university, and worked at Starbucks. She was an average twenty year old, and she enjoyed keeping it that way. 

Unfortunately, despite (totally not) being the real-life embodiment of good luck, nothing ever seemed to go her way. For example: on this fine, beautiful, sunny, warm, glorious day, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was to work inside her local Starbucks from opening until two. She slept in through all three of her alarms, yet somehow managed to rush to work with seconds to spare. Frazzled, but on time, it was considered a win.

And then, of course, it wasn’t.

Humming along to the music through the cafe speakers, the young student was working at work. With pencil in hand, she did her best to do drafts of her upcoming major work. Rush hour was over, so she could finally relax.

She _so_ should have known better. Alas, on this almost-great day, she didn’t.

So there she stood, sketching and shading and paying zero attention to her paying job. The bell above the door chimed once, twice. Open and closed, where once there was one, now there were two.

She was still humming.

And sketching and shading.

And paying zero attention to the new customer.

Then he politely coughed and all sense went out the window.

Scrambling, flailing and falling, Marinette let out an undignified squawk. In her haste, she managed to draw deep, dark lines onto her drafts and completely ruin them. She also fell and hit her head on the way down, but this was a common occurrence, and she was much more concerned about her assignment than her own physical health. 

She saw a shadow.

 _Oh_ , she thought, _maybe I should be more worried about the customer who definitely thinks I’m an idiot._

Yes. The dreaded customer. _Shit_. Slowly, she stood. Bravely, she met his eyes. With dignity, she asked him for his order.

His mouth opened. Marinette’s heart stopped for a moment. “Hi! Can I get a grande iced green tea latte? Thanks.” No it didn’t. He smiled with perfect teeth. Marinette…couldn’t really handle it. She typed in his order, fingers flexing and unflexing. Hands curling and uncurling. She grabbed a cup, pen ready. “And your name, Sir?” She asked, to which he…didn’t reply.

She looked up at him, this time, for the first proper time, really seeing him. Eyes piercing green. Soul baring, some might say. _Haunted_ , Marinette thought. His hair fell in his face in a way that Marinette was _sure_ would have annoyed her if it were her own, but recognised that it was done on purpose. As much as she tried to distract herself from his eyes…she just couldn’t. Where there was sadness, she could also see shock and confusion, and, as the seconds passed, she saw faint amusement. But Marinette couldn’t escape his sadness. Placing the cup on the counter and leaning on it herself to gain some height, she furrowed her brows.

“Monsieur…are you alright?” His head quickly shook, but not as a _no_. Whatever stupor the beautiful stranger (she wasn’t _blind_ ) was in, he was now out of it. He ducked down to Marinette’s still-leaning-on-counter-for-support height, so they were practically nose to nose, smiling some more, this time however it was decidedly more _mischievous_ , and _wow_ , mon _dieu that looks familiar_ , and if Marinette couldn’t really handle him just _smiling_ , then _this_ —

“Yes, I'm quite alright. And, the name’s…Bond. James Bond.” 

He had the audacity to wink.

To _wink_.

Marinette was _already struggling_ and then he _winked_.

In her mind, she imagined smoothing her hair, clearing her throat, and thoroughly shaking her entire body to be rid of his effect. As it was only in her head, it didn’t help at all. But it was the thought that counts. Instead of _actually_ doing as her mind told her, she, firstly, sighed and stared at the ceiling, because that was _ridiculous_. She heard him laugh, and it was breathtakingly beautiful. Loud, and almost surprised, as if laughing wasn’t something he did often. All she could do was calmly lean away from the counter to pick up the discarded cup. _Yes. Right. He told me his name. A ridiculous name that is definitely fake_.

It was almost like a lightbulb moment.

A _fake name_.

 _Well_ , she smirked, _let’s give him a fake name_.

She made his ridiculously rich-girl sounding drink and, after handing it over, went back to her designs. She pretended she didn’t hear his surprised choke of laughter, she pretended she didn’t get a thrill at knowing she was the cause of it. She stood and she restarted her drafts.

It wasn’t until she heard the telltale ring once, twice; heard the heavy thud of wooden doors slamming shut, that she let herself relax.

 _007_ , she had written. And it made him laugh.

 _Mon dieu_ , she thought. _I’m in trouble_.


	2. Inigo Montoya

Not a lot of time had passed. Not a lot at all.

Almost a week had passed since Marinette Dupain-Cheng had seen the man whose laughter was a shock to himself. Whose mischievous grin reminded her of another blonde haired, green eyed friend. Who she _didn’t even know_. The week had been…interesting. Slow. Fast. A constant state of second-glances and disappointed sighs. 

Okay, so her week was only _kind of_ like that. She wasn’t _constantly_ thinking about him; she had uni work to focus on, as well as work-work, _and_ the patrol as Ladybug she had mid-week. She wasn’t constantly thinking about him, but when she did, _dieu_ , she thought _hard_.

She thought of the softness in his laughter when he read _007_.

She thought of the curve of his grin when he leaned down to speak; how it was beautiful, but uncertain.

She thought of the confusion in his gaze when she asked him his name. Like she should know who he was, but then a near-certainty, like he was happy she didn’t.

She thought of how she _didn’t even know his name and, thus, shouldn’t be thinking like this, Marinette!_

She also thought wow she _really shouldn’t be thinking like this, Ladybug!_

She thought of how she really thinks he just needs a friend.

It had been an interesting week.

And now she was finally sitting, and she was finally calm. It was the middle of the night, and it was so cold, but it was the middle of December, and she smelt Christmas spices, and she saw glistening lights and she heard laughter. Footsteps behind her broke her reverie, but she was still calm, and her heart didn’t quicken.

She patted the space on the roof next to her. “Come sit,” she said. “I just wanna catch-up tonight. We can put patrol off for a bit.” There was a pause before Chat Noir slumped down next to her. His breath was steam next to her face.

“So…” he started, “you just wanna… _chat_?”

Ladybug snorted. “Sure, Chaton. Let’s _chat_.”

She swung her legs back and forth over the edge of the roof. She knew she was the one who _technically_ initiated the talk-now-patrol-later deal…but that didn’t mean she actually wanted to _talk_ about her—her _problems_.

“So are you gonna tell me what’s bothering you, bugaboo? Or are we just gonna stare out to the stars all night long in silence.”

She slumped forward, almost dejected. “I guess not…” 

She told him everything. She told him how much he surprised her, and how much his laughter surprised himself. She told him how he looked confused when she didn’t know his name (“Maybe he’s someone famous!” Chat had said. “Oh, I hope not!” she had replied. “I’d hate for him to think I don’t know him or don’t keep up with current affairs or anything!” Chat had looked at her weirdly. “But…you don’t?”). She was out of breath by the time she was done, adamant as she was about telling Chat how important it was that this man have a friend.

Chat Noir had a far-off look on his face. Ladybug wasn’t sure she liked where this would go. “He’s only come in once, you said?” She nodded. “And you wrote 007 on his cup?” She hummed her affirmation. “Look, I would say give it time. He’s been in there once, you know? Maybe he’s been trying and he’s been busy. We don’t…we don’t know this guy’s schedule. It could be _pawsitively clawful!_ I’m sure he’ll be back in no time.”

“ _Dieu_ that was so bad!” She laughed, “but, you know…sometimes, you say just the right things.”

“I am sometimes known to be purr-etty clever!” 

Ladybug laughed and tapped his nose. “But then you go and say things like that! Silly kitty.”

He held his hands up in mock-surrender. “You know I can’t help it! The cat puns are what _make_ Chat Noir! Chat Noir without his cat puns is just…well…he’s just a very lame cat-themed superhero, I guess.” He shrugged. “I really just can’t help it.”

“Yeah, as much as I hate the puns…you wouldn’t be the same if you didn’t say them.” She looked forward, to the stars and the city lights. Yawning, she leaned against him, her head resting in the crook of his neck. “But, seriously, Chat, thank you for tonight. I really needed it.”

His arm wrapped around her shoulder, and his tail wrapped around her waist. “Anytime, My Lady. Anytime.”

* * *

It was almost like Chat’s words were her very own lucky charm. 

The next day, once the morning rush was over and Marinette Dupain-Cheng could finally have a moment to breathe, the doubles doors shoved open, hit the walls with a _bang_ , and slammed shut again. Her heart was racing a mile a minute and she was so confused, and then the handsome stranger was crouched behind the counter, _clinging_ to her _goddamn legs_ , and she thought, _wow, breathing was nice_.

His blonde hair brushed against her legs and it took everything in Marinette not to just run her hands through the silky locks because _no, Marinette, that is_ not _socially acceptable_. She was breathing heavy.

She blamed it on the shock of the doors.

He lifted his head, also breathing heavy. “I’m so sorry,” he panted, obviously trying to regain all the breath he really didn’t have. “I hate to do this but could you, maybe…could you say I’m not here? Just, I mean, _dieu_ —” he was cut-off by the sounds of screams. 

Marinette’s instant reaction was to shove the beautiful sad man in a cupboard and _deal with the akuma_ , but somehow she just knew it wasn’t an akuma.

“…S-sure?” She frowned. “I just—”

The doors slammed open again, but this time, they didn’t really close. There were too many…young…girls? Marinette’s mouth opened and closed. She refrained from looking down at the quivering mess by her legs.

A girl at the front of the crowd stepped forward. She clutched a glossy magazine tightly in her two fists, her lower lip was trembling, her hair windswept. She opened her mouth to speak. “Has he been through here?” She whispered it, almost reverently. It felt like she shouted.

Marinette did the only thing she felt she was capable of doing. She frowned, and shook her head. 

She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Are you sure?” The girl asked. Marinette didn’t have time to say anything before someone towards the back of the overflowing group of girls _screamed_. One-by-one, every single girl in the crowd followed suit.

Then they all ran out of the Starbucks, and the double doors finally slammed shut.

Marinette’s breathing had yet to recover. It didn’t stop her from glaring down at him in a silent demand.

He was sheepish, his hand was rubbing the back of his neck and he was blushing slightly. Still, he stood, and he laughed a little, and went back to the customer side of the counter. Safely positioned, with his hand still on his neck, he leaned down slightly. “I’m uh…I want to apologise for that,” he said.

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. “You gonna tell me who you are now, pretty boy? We just had a very large group of girls in here who all seemed very eager to see you. I’d hate to not at least know who it was they were screaming for.”

She knew her mistake when his eyes did nothing short of _gleam_. He leaned down even more, his hand no longer on the back of his neck but now palm flat on the surface of the counter much closer to her end than his. “So…you think I’m pretty?” He winked. He really needed to _stop that_. Marinette could handle many things but his winks weren’t one of them. 

“Yes,” she said, matter-of-factly, “I do. But I have work to do, and you have screaming girls to run from. So, what’s the order, and who’s it for?”

He blushed, yet still slid far too easily back into the roll of an ‘innocent and proper young man’. Standing straight with a small, fake, model-like smile, he said “Yes, can I have a grande iced green tea latte? For Inigo Montoya, please.” 

She nodded and wrote a name on the cup, and didn’t speak to him again. She had moved on to cleaning again when his sudden laugh stopped her short, but Marinette didn’t turn to him and continued cleaning, continued her job. She had a feeling he’d be back.

Not to brag, but Marinette thought she had a slight understanding of this man’s sense of humour, and she must be on the right track. It certainly was difficult to fit ‘ _You killed my father, prepare to die_ ’ on the cup without him noticing or seeing any of it before being given the drink, hovering as he was.

She snorted. 

Oh, _dieu_. She was _so_ in trouble.


	3. Batman

Marinette Dupain-Cheng had spent the past three weeks lying to herself in total agony. She spent Christmas _lying_. Not that she admitted that, of course. 

Because it wasn’t that she _hadn’t_ seen the beautiful stranger who had a gaggle of teenage girls screaming after him, it was that she _had_. Almost _every single day_. And it was driving her just a little bit insane.

By now she could say that, at least, she was immune to his winks.

What she wasn’t immune to? Seeing him in a _suit_. And working almost _every single day._

She was humming a Christmas carol, and she was sketching winter coats for her design class. The assignment was meant to be done over the Christmas break, but that was almost over and she had barely started. She had been focussing on her Ladybug duties and her mysterious customer and designing upgraded winter gear for herself and Chat and had just...forgotten. 

She was in the middle of fixing an error she found, when the doors opened in a graceful (and quiet) arc. She looked up and, for a moment, almost wished she hadn’t, because his smile was so blindingly brilliant she almost couldn’t see. And then the doors closed behind him, and the halo effect she could have _sworn_ was real disappeared, and she saw his suit. 

Her breath left her body in one fell swoop.

He had always worn casual clothes. Fancy and expensive, yes, but casual. Marinette couldn’t understand why the suit was having such an effect on her, but it was all black with a tie the same green as his eyes and, in that moment, she could have sworn she had seen him before. Had known him before. But then he arrived at the counter and his smile was so bright and happy and he looked so open and inviting and _wow he has never smiled like that before._

She wished he would smile at her like that all the time.

He placed his palms flat on the counter, and his smile shifted, a little. It went from open and inviting to unapologetically _thrilled_.

Cup and pen in hand, Marinette raised a single eyebrow. “What’s gotten _you_ so excited?”

He leaned down a little, his smile only widening. “I did something for myself today. I finally made a decision about my life and my future, and now it’s real.” He laughed a breathless laugh, and ran a hand through his impeccably styled hair. “It’s going to be real.”

Placing the cup on the counter, the young designer leaned up to his level, eyes soft. “I don’t know your name,” she said, “but can I know what you did?”

His answering smile hurt her heart, just a little.

Just a smidge.

“I quit one of my jobs.” He said. “I work for my father, you see, and I do quite a few different things for him, and one was just…” he sighed. “One was a bit too much for me. So I finally quit. And…” He started to smile again, and it made his eyes _glow_. “Oh never mind, I’ve said too much already! If I say any more you’ll want to know everything about me! You’ll want to know all my secrets,” he leaned closer, and put a conspiratorial hand between them, his eyes flickering about, “or, you could _even_ want to know—” he gasped loudly, “my _identity!”_

Something about his phrasing struck Marinette, but he was leaning back and standing straight by the time she even thought there was something odd about it.

“So! That’s my story!”

The answering grin Marinette threw his way was so big it hurt her cheeks, but his happiness was contagious, and she was a sucker for his smiles.

So she typed in his order, but asked to double check. “So, grande iced green tea latte?”

He hummed. “You know, I’d normally say yes, _but_ …I did something good today. And, heck, it was just Christmas! I’ll have one of the specials...maybe a peppermint mocha? Or a frappaccino…” 

She laughed. “Do you want to be warm, or do you want to be cold?”

He sighed, but he nodded gravely. “I think I’ll risk the cold,” he said. “I’ll have a peppermint mocha frappaccino, please!”

Marinette snorted, and muttered _dork_ beneath her breath. Looking up sharply she smirked, asking a quick _who’s it for this time?_ while raising a single, delicate brow. 

His smile turned _wicked_. “I’ll give you a hint, Princess. He wears all black, is a notorious bachelor, devilishly handsome, and his _hero_ name is associated with an animal.”

__

Marinette felt alarm bells going off in her head.

__

And then he _winked_ and Marinette could finally admit she had been _lying to herself_. She was _not immune._ Repeat. She was _not. Immune_.

__

He leaned in close. Closer than he had ever been. So close that she could feel his hair on her face and her heart was doing very strange things and she _could not handle anything that was happening she was so very not immune to this man in any way, shape, or form._

__

He whispered _Batman_ in her ear and she suddenly stopped feeling like her world was turning upside down.

__

_Batman. I can handle Batman. I cannot handle Chat No—_

__

She didn’t write Batman on his cup.

__

That day was the first time he stayed a bit longer after getting his drink. He laughed loudly and repeated the words _Catwoman is better_ back to her, and she laughed but stood by her statement. He kept her company while she cleaned, and he stayed a little after and asked about her assignment. She told him about the winter coats, but didn’t go into too much detail in case he was just being curious.

__

But, to her surprise, he seemed to understand everything she talked about, and even made a few helpful suggestions that would improve both coats overall.

__

He left long after his drink was finished.

__

Just before he reached the wooden, double doors of the entrance, he paused, and he turned to look back at her. His smile was so soft her heart clenched. “Happy new year, by the way” he said. “And thank you, Marinette.” Then he nodded once, and he walked outside to the beautiful sunny day.

__

She smiled, and her heart hurt just a little.

__

Just a smidge.

__


	4. Adrien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm...SO sorry for this two month wait! I don't have a good excuse, but I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Marinette wasn’t sure how to feel. She was so convinced, in that instant of a second, that _Batman_ wasn’t going to say _Batman_ at all. No. She thought he was going to say _Chat Noir_ and, for some reason, this left her confused. Conflicted. 

Terrified. 

_Excited_.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. So she tried to avoid him. 

It didn’t really work out.

* * *

Ladybug was sitting on the roof of an unsuspecting building in the heart of the Parisian centre. She swung her legs and stared at the people, the stars, the brightness and the cold, lost as she was in the midst her jumbled thoughts, her confused heart. Her solo patrol had ended, and she was glad she was alone. Seeing Chat Noir was the last thing she wanted. 

_Perhaps,_ she thought with a sigh, _a walk will do me some good._

She waited until her feet hit the ground, until she was sure no one could see her, before she detramsformed, smiling softly at a sleepy Tikki as she floated back into Marinette’s purse. 

She was all but ten minutes into her walk when something rather strange happened. 

She heard a light scuffle behind her, a sharp intake of breath, a heavy fall. By the time she whirled around, nothing was there but the faint hum of the city, an almost-silence. Turning back she very nearly screamed, bumping head-first into someone’s chest. 

She scrambled, knowing she couldn’t _really_ call for Tikki because _secret identities_ but _also_ knowing she was borderline useless without her. 

Heart racing out of her chest and breaths coming too fast to be healthy, Marinette figured she could at least _try_ to _punch her assailant to hell_ when a clawed hand wrapped hers up in one, the figure bent down and said, “Ma-miss, it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not a friendly neighbourhood Chat Noir for nothing!”

And no, he wasn’t. Because of course the one time she actually wanted to be alone (read: not with him) she wouldn’t be. Of course she was frightened near to death by none other than Chat Noir. 

Of course.

* * *

He insisted on walking her home. She found it curious that he was so adamant about helping a stranger, but then remembered he was a superhero, and a gentleman. 

And, technically, they weren’t strangers. 

“Do you remember me at all, Chat Noir?” She had asked, a teasing glint in her tone as they walked almost a little too slow back to her home. 

He stiffened, a little, but then she laughed, and told him about Evillistrator, and how, yes, _she_ was that fourteen year old girl who helped him best her akumatised classmate while her alter-ego had been busy on a ‘secret mission’. (Not that she mentioned anything about having such alter-ego, or the lack of a secret mission said alter-ego had been on.)

His eyes brightened, giddy, and his hand landed joyfully on her shoulder as he all but burst out an “Oh _dieu_ , Marinette? Yes! How could I forget?!”

* * *

Three not extremely strange and yet very strange things happened that night:

  1. Marinette Dupain-Cheng asked superhero Chat Noir in for hot chocolate. (Marinette invited him inside, bribing him with the deliciously warm beverage on the cold night, and his instant reaction was to say, out loud, that he couldn’t remember the last time he had hot chocolate. She didn’t give him the option to refuse, after that.)
  2. After saying yes, Chat Noir and Marinette Dupain-Cheng had a brilliantly long conversation, almost like a catch-up between old friends. (They spoke about their favourite movies, their likes and dislikes, their hobbies, which led to Ultimate Mecha Strike, fencing, designing, Jagged Stone, and so much more that it left Marinette almost a little breathless.)
  3. Chat Noir called her Princess as he left. (She couldn’t properly function for a few minutes. She blamed it on the fact that he left at three in the morning.)



She couldn’t help the blush that lit up her cheeks like wood to a fire. She was used to her partner’s flirtations and teasing, but it was different, and somehow more genuine. 

Which only made her a little mad, in hindsight.

* * *

It was the next day, when the sun was brilliantly shining, and Marinette was too tired to function, that she almost made a very, very big mistake. Because of course, on this beautiful day when she felt like absolute, utter crap from her late night, it was the busiest morning. Of course, when she was practically falling asleep at the counter, she was working alone.

Of course, when her mysterious and beautiful stranger put in the order for a hot chocolate, his voice, in that moment, sounded _so much like Chat Noir’s_ that she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out the worst thing she could have possibly blurted.

“Two in as many days? Shame on you, Chaton.”

There was an...uncomfortable silence.

Then she realised what she said. She had never scrambled to correct herself faster in her life.

“U-um! I Mean! H-hello! Did you ask for _two_ hot chocolates?! B-because I’ve already, you know, I’ve already made, like, um, _fifty_ , yeah, fifty today! And, you know, yesterday, I lotso made a slo! I mean I also mad a lot! So it’s like a lot of people are asking for hot chocolates and they keep talking about Chat Noir because he must have been about last night and my friend, Alya, she runs the Ladyblog and she totally was telling me all about how Chat Noir was out last night and something about hot chocolate which, hahaha! Must be why everyone is getting hot chocolate this morning! Because he must have had one last night! I’m all for starting new trends! Hahaha...haha...ha.” Marinette rambled. The words were, at best, jumbled. To say the least.

Her mysterious customer only stared at her, before it seemed he could no longer help himself, and he burst out laughing. It started as a bark, and then his shoulders were shaking and he sounded like he was struggling to breathe. Marinette was almost concerned for him, but the knowledge that he was laughing _at_ her kept her from feeling _too_ bad.

As he wiped away his mirthful tears, still chuckling and shoulders not quite settled, Marinette spoke. “I’m sorry for the rant, even if it did amuse you. I had a late night last night and a busy morning.”

“Don’t apologise, Marinette! I completely get it. I, too, had a pretty late night last night. I had a catch-up with a good friend of mine, and we lost track of time. She made hot chocolate for me, and it was so good that when I woke up this morning I was...well, I was kind of craving it.”

Marinette couldn't quite help but notice how gentle his eyes looked as he spoke about his 'good friend'. 

None of that. He's more than allowed to have his own life!

Instead, she laughed and, flashing him a brilliant smile, said, “What a coincidence! I stayed up late talking to my friend, too. And funny you should mention hot chocolate, because I also made us some!” Yes. Totally not weird-sounding. _Oh, dieu_. She sighed. 

Shaking her head she started making the order, before remembering she hadn’t asked for his name.

The cafe was quiet. 

He wasn’t answering.

“Monsieur?” She asked.

He smiled at her, and it was such a soft smile that Marinette’s breath caught in her throat.

He held out his hand. “Adrien,” he said, his voice as soft as his smile. As gentle as his eyes. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you.”


	5. Cha-

Marinette couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

She finally knew his name.

“Adrien...” she tested the name slowly. To see how it felt in her mouth. How the letters formed to create the  
name that suited this man before her so beautifully.

Adrien.

She kept thinking it over and over again. Staring at his beautiful eyes, his gorgeous smile.

His hand still outstretched.

_Oh. I forgot to shake it._

She all but dropped the cup she was holding in her effort to shake his hand, firing a quick  _Nice to officially meet you!_  as she did. He laughed, indulging her, and Marinette melted.

 _His laugh,_  she thought.  _Adrien’s laugh._

She...couldn’t really get a grip.

“So...one grande hot chocolate for a...an Adrien?” His answering smile shone so brilliantly. Hers was so big her cheeks hurt.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s right.”

* * *

Adrien ended up buying two more drinks that morning. And he came back the next day to buy two more.

And the next day.

And the next.

Every time he would stay for hours, and they would just talk. She was very slowly learning things about him.  
_Very_ slowly.

“So, fashion,” he had said once. “You love it?”

She had merely laughed. “Of course I do,” she said. “It’s my passions in life. Fashion and design is…my aspiration, my goals. And, clearly,” she added, “is at least somewhat big in your life, too?”

He only laughed a little. Shook his head in a way that Marinette knew didn’t really mean so much a  _no_  as an  _if you only knew how much._

 

* * *

  

He had been coming in almost everyday, buying hot chocolates and staying far longer than necessary, for almost a month.

A _whole month._

And, as Marinette soon realised, she didn’t even know his last name. His middle name. If he even  _had_  a middle name!

 _‘Agreste’_ came up by accident.

Marinette had spent the whole of the night before her latest shift scouring the newest fashion magazine. 

She wasn't sure how she hadn't figured it out sooner, but there he was. Front cover. His beautiful smile out for the whole world to see.

Adrien.

Adrien  _Agreste._

It took the whole night for her to come to terms with the fact that the man she definitely had a crush on was also the man she used to have a celebrity crush on over five years ago. The son of famous fashion designer Gabriel Agreste. The face of his company!

_Adrien. Agreste._

And he kept coming in, every day, to the Starbucks she worked at, to buy hot chocolates and stay much longer than was necessarily needed.

It took all. Night.

She kept her cool when he walked in. Didn't stutter like she would have if she were she fourteen and in love with an idea instead of a person. No. Marinette held his eyes as he made his way through the cafe, up to the counter. Matched his small, happy smile with a slightly devious smirk, and delicately raised a single eyebrow when he reached her, giving nothing away but her mischief.

Then she slapped down the magazine and watched the colour drain from his face with a very satisfied feeling of accomplishment filling her belly.

"I can explain—" he started, but she cut him off with her hand.

"Adrien," she started, deadly quiet.  _”Agreste."_

He gulped.

"Do you have any more secrets?" She whispered.

There was a small sliver of fear, and then resignation, finally settled by determination.

“Maybe,” he said. “But you’ll just need to figure it out, won’t you, My — my _Marinette_.” And, with that, he ordered his usual hot chocolate, but left immediately afterward. He didn’t seem rushed, he just seemed… _mischievous_. 

* * *

 

Chat Noir wasn’t acting his usual self.

His fingers wouldn’t stop fidgeting, his eyes kept darting around, and Marinette knew something was running wild in his head and he couldn’t find himself able to figure out exactly what to do about it.

“Chat,” she started gently. “What’s wrong?” 

His eyes reflected the moon. Sitting so high up on the Eiffel Tower wasn’t unusual for them, so they were both comfortable with the height — but Marinette had never seen him look like this. She had seen him animated, of course. But never so excited, not to this extent.

Odd, she thought.

He raised his hand to hers, and moved it from his mouth, but never let go.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asked.

“My usual patrol, you know that.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Of course.”

Marinette had gotten very good at reading Chat Noir over their years of superheroing together. And for the slightest of seconds, a look crossed his face. It wasn’t an unusual face for Chat to wear, except the timing was too coincidental to actually be a coincidence.

It was the same look she had seen on Adrien Agreste earlier that day as he left the cafe.

* * *

 

It was the next day that he came in. 

The same smile. The same hair. Her eyes darted quickly to his hand…

_Same ring _, she thought.__

__His walk was less a walk and more a swagger, and his beautiful eyes reflected a moon no longer shining in a sky no longer night. Marinette’s heart was racing in her chest; she could feel it beating in her throat and her palms were so sweaty she was scared to lean on the counter in case they left a mark._ _

__Her eyes never left his._ _

__“I’m guessing you want a hot chocolate?” She asked as he reached the counter. He leant down and crossed his arms, looking her straight in the eye._ _

__“Yeah,” he said. “A hot chocolate would be perfect.”_ _

__A smirk flittered across his face for only a moment. Marinette wondered when the exact moment was that he knew. Knew who she was._ _

__She typed down his hot chocolate order. Wrote it on his cup._ _

__Looked up and stared him dead in the eye._ _

__“For…Chat Noir?”_ _

__His eyes held hers. Narrowed, slightly, before the smirk that flittered across his face earlier came back to stay._ _

__“Why yes, My Lady.”_ _

__Marinette’s heart stopped._ _

__She wrote his name on his cup._ _

__It started again._ _

__He looked at her while she made his drink. Stared with his arms crossed, and a faint smile playing on his lips._ _

__“When did you find out?” He asked at one point._ _

__She smiled. “You pulled this face, last night. As Chat. It wasn’t an unusual Chat Face, except I had seen that exact same look on _you _, yesterday morning. It was more of a hunch, but I figured I could have easily played it off if I was wrong.”___ _

____She finished making his drink, and placed it in his hand. His fingers brushed hers._ _ _ _

____“It’s nice to _officially _meet you, Chat Noir. Adrien Agreste.”___ _ _ _

______“You too, Ladybug. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”_ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
